I was also being stubborn and I was not backing down. I was not going to be the dick who left her hobbling to the train. If she didn’t want me in the car with her, she could be driven there by Andre. I had a thought. “Did you have a purse at work?”
“No. I keep my keys, phone, and MetroCard in my pocket. It’s easier that way.”
“Then we’re good to go.” My driver, Andre, pulled up. “Here’s the car.”
Leah raised an eyebrow at me as I opened the door for her. For a second she appeared to debate if I was planning to kidnap her, but seemed to decide my intentions were sincere. Which they were. Regarding her ankle and getting her home safely.
Contrary to my family’s opinion (and maybe some women I had dated before I had realized I wasn’t suited for dating), I wasn’t an asshole. My mother always said I was emotionless, but I’m not. I just am very closely in control of them. Meaning emotions. You know, feelings and shit. I had a lid on all of that. That didn’t mean I didn’t have a sincere interest in helping other people. It just meant I had no patience for bullshit and drama. So even if Leah had been an eighty-year-old man, I would still have been helping the guy home. It was the right thing to do.
I wouldn’t be having dirty-as-hell thoughts about an eighty-year-old man though, which would frankly make me feel a lot better about my altruism than I did right then.
“If I make you uncomfortable, Andre can drive you home solo,” I told her.
Leah collapsed on the seat with a sigh and closed her eyes briefly. She opened them and blinked at me. “Get in the car, Grant. I’m
sure you have places to be. Walking will take you forever and cabs suck. Plus, you don’t scare me.”
“Good to know I don’t give off serial killer vibes.” I slid in beside her. I greeted Andre and then asked Leah, “Where do you live?”
“Washington Heights.”
She lived at the very ends of the earth. Or the tip of Manhattan, which was basically was the same thing when you added in traffic. Fine by me. I was thirsty for more time with Leah and now I had the pleasurable feeling that Leah was just as attracted to me as I was to her. “Got that, Andre?”
“Yes, sir. Just give me your address, miss.”
She rattled off a street address. It wasn’t a neighborhood I went to frequently. My only extensive experience with Upper Manhattan was visiting high school friends at Columbia years earlier. I pulled my phone out and texted my assistant to cancel my meeting. There was no way I’d be back in Midtown in forty minutes. Work could wait.
Me seeing this through couldn’t.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Leah asked. “I don’t want to put you out. We can drop you off at your office or whatever on the way.”
“You’re not putting me out. Let me be nice to you.” I gave her a smile. “It’s my fault you’re injured.”
“True.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt. “That reminds me, here’s your money.”
I held up my hand. “Keep it for ice packs and ankle wraps.”
“I can’t accept it,” she said, trying to shove the money at me.
I moved my hands everywhere in evasive tactics so she couldn’t press the hundred-dollar bill into my hand. At first, she was frustrated trying to follow my movements, then she laughed.
“What are we, twelve? What are you doing?”
She tried it again, but I maneuvered like LeBron James getting past a defender.
“I’m not taking it, Leah. Forget it.”
“Heavy-handed. Told you.”
“And you appear to be stubborn.”
“Determined, not stubborn.”
“Just like I’m a leader, not heavy-handed.”
Leah rolled her eyes at me. They were a deep, rich brown, with flecks of gold around the pupils. The first thing I’d noticed about Leah six months earlier was that she walked with a bounce so that her ponytail swung. Then when she had turned, the second thing I had noticed was her soulful eyes. They told a story every time she looked at me. I could tell when she was in a good mood, when she was tired, and when she was curiously assessing me.
That was what she was doing now. Assessing me.